Wednesday, October 16, 2013

Of Dead Mice and Naughty Children

An evening at pekoponian's house...

When the middles arrived home from school, I was making hamburger vegetable soup.  They immediately began raiding the cupboard and getting in the way.  Then as I moved on to peanut butter cookies, Bestest Husband Ever had to go back in to work and Baby Girl started getting into the junk drawer. 

I chased her out of the junk drawer and went back to my cookie dough.  Pookie came home and started snacking.  I heard a plastic tinkling noise and went to the living room to discover Baby Girl and Agent P playing marbles, legos and ripped-up paper in front of the door.  Made BG pick up ripped paper while confiscating marbles, then went back to my cookies.

I finished the cookie dough and began making dumplings.  Buttercup and Twinkie went to play outside with the neighbor girl.  Screaming ensued.  Paused to check on kids.  Discovered incomprehensible dispute between Buttercup and Twinkie.  Went back inside to find BG disassembling Twinkie's homework binder.  Got a little upset.

Rolled the cookies and decided it would be really clever to use big baking sheets and bake all four dozen at once.  I popped the cookies into the oven and began dropping dumplings into the soup.  When I was done with that, I peeked at the cookies in the oven, congratulating myself on what a nice dinner I would be serving my children.  The cookies still needed a couple of minutes, so I went to the sink to run water in the dumpling bowl.  Then I started washing the dishes!  About the time I was finishing up and thinking that those cookies really should come out of the oven soon, smoke stared coming out of the oven heat vent and I walked over to find that I had four dozen charcoal briquettes in there! 

At this point, I started opening windows, turning on ceiling fans and swearing.  Then various children appeared, telling me the cookies didn't look bad at all to them, at which point I threw them all out of the kitchen.  I managed to sit down alone long enough to restock all the stores in my Tiny Tower before the dumplings finished.  Ah, silence.  You truly are golden!

Since dinner, such as it was, was now ready, I went outside to call the kids.  The yard was empty.  I called them a few times.  Nothing.  Irritated and hungry, those of us who had bothered to be at home went ahead and ate. One fast bowl of soup later I left Pookie in charge and went out in the van looking for Twinkie and Buttercup and found them on the other side of the block, well within hearing range.  Grrr.  Got everyone home and youngest two decided they didn't like soup. 

Then Baby Girl started sneaking burnt cookies.  Apparently they are some sort of kid delicacy, because they all ate quite a few, with BG only stopping when the rest were taken away.  Blechh!  By then it was finally time to begin getting ready for bed. Yay!

So I asked Twinkie to get in the shower as it was his turn, only to have him ignore me.  I broke off from loading the dishwasher and asked him if he loved me.  He replied in the affirmative, and I replied, "If you love me, then take a shower!"  He went off and bathed.  It was magical.  Then it was Buttercup's turn and Baby Girl insisted on showering with her, inducing pouting.  Buttercup was informed that life is a series of things we'd rather not do so she had better get over it and she did.

I got the girls through the shower, chased down Agent P and wrestled pajamas onto him, and settled in on the couch with BG to read "The Tale of Mr. Tod." We were interrupted several times by Agent P wanting to climb on top of the book.  Half way through, Baby Girl agrees with me that Mr. Tod is "really long" and we should finish it tomorrow. Yes! 

So I tucked in all of the kids, turned on the kettle for some relaxing herbal tea and let the dog out for the last time of the night.  Sweet, sweet Silence was soon to be mine.  The water boiled and I put in my tea bag just as my faithful hound yipped to be let back in. 

Now here I must insert that my huntress tuxedo cat had been missing for most of the rainy afternoon, doubtless outside eating squirrels to death.  When I opened the door to go retrieve the dog, nothing was unusual, but when she and I got back, there was a soaking wet dead mouse on the doorstep!  The dog snatched up said mouse with great gusto and waited for me to open the door for her.  Hmm. No.  She tried sad dog eyes to no avail, but then the sneaky scoundrel cat appeared and I nudged the door open for her.  That's when the dog raced in with the mouse, tail dangling out of her mouth.

Yelling futilely at my shameless hound to drop the mouse, I chased her out of the living room hoping to shoo her back outside, but then she ran down the stairs to the basement instead.  I followed her, discovering she had dropped the mouse on the steps. Tired and dejected, I fetched the dustpan to scoop up Mrs. Frisby. 

Then, as I stepped out the door to dispose of the mouse, BHE rolled up in the driveway.  He stopped the car in front of the step, rolled down the window and looked at me quizzically.  Before he could speak I said, rather gruffly, "It's a dead mouse.  Park the car."

He came inside still confused and I told him the entire story, whereupon I realised that it had been trash day that monring and the mouse was going to spend her first week in the hereafter in my outside trash bin. Ugh.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Why Are You Reading This?

It's summer, fer cryin' out loud!  Go outside!  Get a life!  Now!

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Friday, May 10, 2013

Spring! Finally!!

Spring has arrived at last in the Upper Midwest. Thanks and praise to God above! Sunshine! Warmth (well 57 feels warm at this point)! I can stop putting off my spring planting! Yay! This must be counter-pointed by the fact that last Friday, May the third, we had a snow/sleet mix. And last Thursday wet slushy snow. And last Wednesday, May the first, we put out May baskets in the rain. So, even though May usually has higher temps than 50, I'm enjoying my nice warm spring. Hee hee!

Monday, March 4, 2013

Lips

I haven't seen this show in about fifteen years or something, but I woke up with this going round in my head this morning.

Thursday, February 7, 2013

You Might be Potty Training if...

you find yourself visually examining that pants of those in line ahead of you for wetness.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

He Really IS the Bestest

I used to feel sorry for myself because my husband doesn't do romantic stuff.  He doesn't write me poems.  He has given me flowers exactly twice in the fifteen years we've been together, which is probably my fault as both times were awkward to the extreme and got him nowhere fast.  And he doesn't surprise me with anything, well, ever really.

But, and this but is so important, I have come to the conclusion that as captivating as romance can be, it is mostly bunk.  Basing marriage on the romantic satisfaction of adults rather than commitment and family has been a nearly unmitigated disaster as most anyone who grew up in the last third of the twentieth century can attest.  Once the excitement fades, the happy couple are left with home repairs and bills and cat sick on the area rug.  It is impossible to sustain romantic feelings in the long term.  However, in the long term the patient are rewarded with a deeper intimacy far more satisfying than blustery romance.

Case in point- I know that my husband asks me for a sweater every year, but doesn't really want one and never wears the ones he has because they always make him too warm.  And I know that although he loves to read about homesteading and self-sufficiency, he will always live in the city and shop at grocery stores. And my husband has paid enough attention to me over the years to learn that I don't wear jewelry. He also knows that I collect oil lamps, and the types I like most. But the deepest, most paying attention-y thing he has ever done for me was to give me a rolling pin hanger and dish cloths this Christmas.

You see, this is really special because it means he noticed that I needed new dish rags.  And he knew which kind I like.  That he spontaneously bought them for me and searched out the right ones shows that he cares about, and observes the day to day.  It means he really understands me.  And that is a better, more lasting romance than all the long stemmed roses he could ever bring me.